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Chapter 2: Coming To Terms

"A man is made by the quality of his enemies."

- King Maric Theirin

~o~O~o~

The sun had already set by the time they reached the bottom of the hill. Aetheria spared one more glance behind her at the capital of Ferelden, letting her gaze slide over its buildings and walls. She knew that she'd probably be living there for a while considering who she was engaged to.

They continued their trek through lush plains and fields that turned gold from the sun's weak light. The days had been warm, but they were slowly getting colder. Leaves were changing colors, complimenting the honey-yellow stalks of wheat and grass. Aetheria breathed in the scent of it: woodsy and natural, bringing back memories of days spent with Fergus among the trees in Highever...

"Aetheria?" Leliana's voice cut through her reverie. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, why-" she began, until she realized a tear had made its way halfway down her cheek. She brushed it aside hastily. "Yes, I was just... reminiscing."

Leliana smiled warmly at her. "If you need anything, I am here for you," she said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you, Leliana."

Darkness had fallen significantly by the time their old campsite came into view. Aetheria spotted the glow of the fire about forty paces ahead. "Go there," she ordered her mabari, Soren. "Make sure Alistair knows we're coming." He barked and sped forward. She didn't want him to be caught off guard.

A few minutes later when they entered the clearing, Soren bounded up to her, whimpering. "What is it, boy?" she asked uncertainly. After all, he knew and was used to Alistair by now. His whimpering couldn't mean anything good.

The hound made a small cry again, looking at the campsite. Aetheria glanced around, seeing why he was upset. Alistair wasn't here.

She groaned and put her hand on her face in exasperation. "Maker's breath, where is he?" She looked around some more. His tent was folded up in a pile next to his pack. So he was here, she thought. But where is he now?

The rest of the party filed into camp. As they began setting up their own tents, Aetheria realized that they'd forgotten to buy one for Loghain. She walked over to him. He was wandering around the fire with his hands behind his back. "Loghain," she said hesitantly.

He turned to her, giving her that same icy stare. "Yes?"

"I... realize that you don't have a tent," she said. "So... here." She handed him her own folded up tent. "You can use mine."

He took it nonchalantly. "And what of you?"

"I can bunk with someone else," she assured him.

He grunted in acceptance. She could have sworn she saw a twinkle in his eye. He knew very well who she'd spend the night with; after all, everyone had heard about the engagement. Either way, he had a tent now, but there was still the matter of finding Alistair. She dreaded bringing him back to camp, but she knew she'd have to. Alistair would have to face her decision, and it was now or never.

"Soren!" she called as soon as she reached the edge of camp. He ran eagerly towards her. She dug a wrinkled rag out of her pack and held it out to him. "Track this scent," she commanded. "Quickly!" He sniffed it, then smelled the air and barked, heading off into the woods around the camp. She followed closely behind him.

The path they took twisted between trees and rocks, stumps and boulders. The moon illuminated their trail, reminding her of the tales her mother had told her when she was still a child. A young maiden, making her way through the pale, moonlit forest, looking for respite from the wild creatures of the night... she had always loved those stories, but she never wanted to play the part of the damsel in distress. She wanted to be able to protect herself.

She felt another tear running down her cheek, and she brushed it away, chiding herself on being so softhearted when it came to her family.

Aetheria eventually heard the sound of swiftly running water, and Soren slowed to a trot. When they reached the river bank, they were greeted by the sight of a shirt lying on the ground along with Alistair's heavy silverite armor.

She held the rag out to Soren again and waited anxiously while he attempted to pick up the scent trail. He sniffed around a couple of large rocks and a log, then went to the edge of the rushing river. He seemed to want to head downriver, but stopped short, looking a little confused. Damn, thought Aetheria. The mist from the river must be covering up the scent. She ushered the dog to follow her, then decided to trust his sense of direction and headed in the same way the water flowed.

Soon after, she spotted him. He was sitting in the grass on the bank, leaning back on a huge boulder. He was shirtless, and Aetheria couldn't help but let her eyes glide over the smooth curves of his muscles before walking into his sight. She stood over him with a small, sad smile, the kind of smile that could get her anything she wanted from him.

He looked up at her with pain in his eyes. Aetheria flinched when she saw it. "Alistair," she said.

"What do you want?" he asked quietly.

She sat down next to him. "I know this can't be easy-"

"'Can't be easy'?" he growled. "More than that. More like 'can't be possible.'"

She was starting to glare. Alistair braced himself. "Look, this is hard," she said, sighing. "More than hard, I know. And... and maybe you really don't like me now. Maybe you hate me after what I've done. But you're going to have to face this."

"Easy for you to say," he mumbled.

She turned and gripped his shoulders tightly, bringing her face close to his in a violent fashion. "Stop being a baby," she hissed fiercely. "We all have to do things we hate-" she practically spat that word "-but it doesn't stop us from doing what we must. Do you understand?"

Alistair had to admit it in his head: he was scared. Of her and what lay in store for them. He nodded timidly. He was used to showing weakness in front of her now.

Her eyes returned to a soft, sad gaze. "I'm sorry I have to... just... boss you around like this," she said. "But we have to do this." She sighed and sat next to him, leaning back on the same rock and smiling faintly. "My family... 'we always do our duty first,' as my father said." Her hand rose to grasp the amulet around her neck, the one given to her by the spirit in the Gauntlet. "That's exactly what he said to me before I... left." She stopped there, wiping away her tears.

Alistair stared at the river as its waters gushed forward. He didn't even look at her.

"We all have our own desires," continued Aetheria, "but we must come to terms with the fact that sometimes, our duty supercedes those desires." She glanced at him. He looked older, even defeated. His eyes were fixed on the rushing water. "Alistair, look at me," she demanded.

He didn't want to see her eyes again. That scorching look he'd gotten from her earlier made him afraid. But he had learned that she was right when she first said they had to turn around and face their fears. He gingerly turned his head towards her, expecting to feel pain at her expression.

Instead, he saw the countenance of a sad young woman who had lost everything she had ever known, looking at the person who made everything worth fighting for. Her verdant gaze was soft, and he couldn't turn away. He didn't want to.

"We have to go back to camp, Alistair," she said. "Promise me you won't go on a rampage when we get there."

He chuckled. She always did have a way of making him smile in their darkest hours. "Alright," he said, sighing. "I guess you got me there."

~o~O~o~

Most of their companions were in their tents by the time they returned. That included Loghain, apparently. It was clear to see where his tent was, too. It was close enough to the fire, but distanced from the others. Someone had generously put Alistair's tent up for him and it was situated on the edge of the semicircle formed by the other tents.

"Where-" Alistair began before getting cut off by Aetheria. She pointed at the tent that was hers before she gave it to Loghain.

"I let him use mine," she explained.

"Yes, but what about you?" he asked. Her smug face gave away the answer. "Ohh. I see."

They ate some of the bread and meat they'd gotten from Arl Eamon's estate and soon afterwards prepared for bed. Alistair got into the tent first. He was glad that Loghain's tent was clear on the other side of the campfire; he wanted to be away from that bastard for as long as possible before they set out in the morning.

He collapsed exhaustedly into his bedroll. Before long he realized that Aetheria must have lent Loghain her own bedroll as well. But that meant-

"Move over," Aetheria's voice sounded, piercing through the darkness. He felt her smooth skin against his as she slid in next to him.

"Are you sure about this?" he whispered, putting his arm around her.

"Why? You're not?" she asked, turning to look at him.

"It's just... I feel so... insecure, you know?" He swallowed. "This person we've been trying so hard to knock from power, to crumble... he's in camp. In our camp."

"He wouldn't dare hurt us," she whispered back, flipping her whole body over so she was facing him. "He knows well enough now that the Blight is the top priority here. Orlais is just a close second."

He laughed softly. "And... his tent is that one, across the fire from us, right?"

"That's right."

"And who's in the tent next to ours?"

Aetheria thought for a moment. "Leliana," she answered. Then she added, "She's a sound sleeper."

"Good," he whispered. He kissed her lips and pulled her closer, slowly letting himself become lost inside her.